


The Perfect Specimen

by Anthracene



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abduction, Aphrodisiacs, Bestiality, Captivity, Dehumanization, Drug-Induced Sex, Forced Pregnancy, Humiliation, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Merpeople, Mpreg, Multi, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Objectification, Other, Overstimulation, Prostate Milking, Sadism, Science Fiction, Sensory Deprivation, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2019-10-25 19:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17731367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthracene/pseuds/Anthracene
Summary: A mad scientist finds himself a new species, perfect for experimentation.He plays with his new toy to his heart’s desire.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> “What would mermen be like scientifically, if they were real?” The fic.
> 
> No magic, no fantasy—just pure science fiction with a dash of merman sex. :)

 

Somewhere located off the edge of the Pacific stood a curious little island, isolated from the rest of civilization across miles of empty ocean.

 

No bigger than 50 acres in size, this island seemed nothing too out of the ordinary upon first glance. Vacant; untouched by modern society and devoid of any notable landmarks of its own, save for the lush vegetation covering nearly every square foot of the island floor. An aerial view of it would only show as a deep green speck amidst a large canvas of blue.

 

The island’s overgrowth of plants had even seemingly choked out any animals from living there, and the eerie hush of the island was as thick and pervasive as the greenery all around. Nothing ever stood out to those who happened to pass by it and, if it weren’t for the little cottage that jutted off the far edge of the coast, nothing would have ever indicated that anything else could even live here.

 

The island  _was_  inhabited by someone, however: one lone biologist, by the name of Orel Pyotr Novikov. The sole proprietor of this island and of the illegal research facility within it.

 

Novikov had purchased the entirety of the island under an untraceable name over a decade ago, with the intention of building his secret facility on it. It was no easy feat, setting up all of the plumbing, electricity, and the various technology needed to run a functional laboratory—all on an island so small and devoid of human activity, no less—but the scientist could not want for anything more, given what he already has at his disposal. Funds are never an issue when he has the massive Novikov inheritance to back him. The family’s connections provides an abundance of indebted “workers” who could be relied upon to keep mum of the construction. Time itself was aplenty, as Novikov was in no rush to finish such an ambitious project. And with all these resources and his own strategic planning at hand, the biologist had created for himself the perfect laboratory in merely seven and a half years: a private little haven for which to freely conduct his wayward research.

 

In the time of the laboratory’s construction, the biologist had also thought to have a small cottage built as well, closer to the rocky tide-pools of the coast and well within plain sight. The tiny building served as a useful façade; Novikov himself had no real need for living quarters when he practically embodied his research day and night, but it was a good deterrent as any for the few that occasionally do come by. Seeing the otherwise mysterious island already inhabited usually drove curious passersby away, and the unassuming little cottage reassured the select few that do visit the island regularly to bring him supplies at the end of every month.

 

Since then, Novikov simply does as he pleases. On the days the shipments arrived, he was simply “Peter”—an eccentric man who seemingly left society on a whim to live in solitude and “be one with nature”.“Peter” was cordial with the people who supplied him, and in turn they performed their job without ever asking questions. The rest of the time the biologist was content to hole himself up in his lab, experimenting with all the wildlife he’s free to harvest from the surrounding ocean. He takes great pleasure in working with animals of all sorts and sizes—studying the differences in development, anatomy, genome, reproduction, really _anything_ he can possibly think of—all within the hidden confines of his safe haven. For this reason, Novikov had his laboratory readily equipped with filtered saltwater tanks of varying sizes—a few even built large enough for a juvenile finback whale.

 

With such a facility now in his possession, Novikov had no more need to stifle his rather _deviant_ curiosities. With no one to stop him, his experimentation can and often did extend to the more ethically unsound: induction of birth abnormalities, infliction of life-threatening injuries, vivisection, and even the creation of hybrids, just to name a few. No animal was too sacred, no scientific question too unconscionable to pursue. The possibilities of what can be achieved by his own hands were simply endless when there was no one else that got involved; no “moral ground” to get in the way of the real questions at hand.

 

Of course, that had also meant that he was forced to forever keep his results to himself—never getting the chance to put forth months of valuable experimental data out there to good use—but Novikov was perfectly fine even with this. As long as his curiosities were sated, the data would never truly be a “waste” in his eyes.

 

More often than not, however, previous findings proved to be useful in other ways. Because there was no rules—no limit in what he is allowed to pursue—the biologist no longer had to rely on the clunky, preset model organisms that everybody else resigns to. Over the years, he’s done well in collecting for himself a database spanning hundreds of organisms across different classes and orders, complete with data for species that many in the scientific community has rarely even _heard_ of. The more data he collects, the more accurate his models and predictions become for the otherwise elusive, lesser-known species he works with, and the more he can invest his precious time in answering the _real questions_. 

 

And no other time could this particular feat have come in handy than the day Novikov had caught  _it_ : the day he lifted his trawling net onto the deck only to find a creature so bizarre, it could have leaped straight out of a fairytale.

 

He’ll never forget the first time he laid eyes on it. Raw, poignant fear written across delicate facial features… That very expression he saw in those soft, doe-brown eyes was so uncannily _human_ ; nothing at all like anything he’s ever seen. It was almost like staring at a cowering little child under that net, really, save for the humanoid torso that seamlessly transitioned into a red, piscine tail. Every inch of the creature was trapped underneath several layers of thick trawling net _—_ neatly wrapped as if the creature before him had been a personal gift from the ocean itself.

 

There was simply no mistaking any of what he saw, even at that moment of initial shock.

 

The frightened little thing, trembling amidst the other organisms in the net, was none other than a  _merman_.

 

A creature, no-, _animal_ that shouldn’t even be _real,_ and yet there it was—right on the very deck of his trawler.

 

He may not have known it yet at the time, but the organism Novikov saw before him that day would forever change his life. Such a curious, fascinating little thing; sharp, lively, _human_ in all the right ways, yet primal and animalistic all the same. And, best of all, **_all_** _his to play with_.

 

In the months to follow, he would come to experiment less and less with other species—too preoccupied with his newest acquisition to even bother with anything else. And why would he not? Not when he already has something so fascinating, so intelligent; something that screams and begs to be defiled _oh-so-prettily_. The longer he has the little creature for, the more he uses and abuses it to its fullest extent—impregnating the ripe young thing over and over again to bear plentiful offspring for him, until his laboratory’s tanks are full of these perfect, perfect specimens.

 

What Orel Pyotr Novikov had on his deck that day was the beginnings of something unfathomably wonderful.


	2. Basic Morphology

 

Not long after he had rounded it up onto his trawler, Novikov had quickly gotten to work documenting everything he could of his little creature.

 

Such a clean slate of an organism—with no literature available on genealogy, reproduction, diet, or even a name. He ventures to guess that no one but him has yet to even _see_ one, much less possess any classifying information he doesn't already have. But even with typically rarer species was the scientist usually able to begin somewhere, using his database and extrapolating results from organisms of similar orders, classes—even the broader phyla, in the more extreme cases. Novikov was truly going to have to start from the ground up in this case, having absolutely nothing else to go by save the new experimental data he sought to create.

 

_What type of organism are they?_

_Phyla; class; order; family; genus? Possible organisms in the database that best match this one?_

 

_Where does this species live?_

_Do they all dwell in the epipelagic zone, like the one he had just caught? Had this little one gotten lost from where they actually live? Could they actually migrate between zones, under certain conditions?_

 

_What are the necessary living conditions to sustain them?_

_Ideal levels of salinity? Temperature? Pressure? pH? What does this species even eat? How much do they eat?_

 

**_How does this species typically reproduce?_ **

 

It’s exhilarating. He can feel his heart thrumming in his ribcage with every question he comes up with, fingers just itching to unravel the creature before him. Scientific breakthroughs such as this were rare, and always something to be welcomed with open arms. It was the very reason he had set out building his own little paradise here on the island, after all—here, he is free to make progress at _his_ pace, and answer questions to _his_ heart's content.

 

The lack of background would pose a few challenges here and there, surely; he couldn’t go around assuming just any chemical in his arsenal would be effective on this species, and he would have to be very careful experimenting on something such as drug dosage and living conditions, for example. He would have to be especially careful, given that the creature he has is his one and only chance thus far: he may not be able to get any more chances without it or—worse—get any more chances at all. But despite these notable constraints, Novikov finds himself humming as he straps the thrashing young creature down onto his workbench.

 

Of course there were going to be problems. Science is always full of them; it's what he's come to love and embrace, all these years. But the benefits of working with such a novel species vastly outweighed whatever challenges may come with it.

 

For one, it meant that he now theoretically owned a _limitless repertoire_ on specimens to experiment. In the past, Novikov had found it rather inconvenient to work with large sea creatures due to the laws in place protecting them; for the sake of protecting his anonymity, he had often resorted to spacing out his experiments with them when it was less than ideal for him to do so—all to lower suspicions surrounding their disappearance. But with _these_ creatures now in hand... well, the sky was the limit, wasn't it? There are no pesky laws to deal with when working with these creatures, _because there is no one else who even knows of their existence._

 

Who will stop him from draining the entire ocean of every single one of them?

 

The faster Novikov can identify this creature, the faster he can learn how to best capture and subdue more of them. And the faster he does that, the faster he can create the generations upon generations of live specimens he desires for his experiments. If he works quickly enough, he may even guarantee for himself that he would be the _only_ human being to know of these creatures’ existence.

 

Novikov alone would be the only one to own them. Control them. Freely do as he pleases with them.

 

The biologist works through the basics with these thoughts in mind. He draws samples of everything he could get his hands on, smiling with glee at the merman's little cries of distress as he takes from it all that he needs. Novikov rushes a little, clearly itching to see his specimen writhe in pain underneath him, but works efficiently enough through each one as to avoid making any unnecessary errors. Much of what he plans on doing later builds upon these basics, after all—even if he's having a little fun with it now, it is imperative that he remains meticulous and focused in carrying out the tasks at hand.

 

  * Blood samples he had drawn from the creature exhibit highly-evolved forms of non-nucleated erythrocytes—a defining trait of mammalian vertebrates. A constant internal body temperature ( _36ºC_ ), as well as the visible lack of scales or chitin anywhere on its body, further confirms to him the mammalian nature of this species.
  * Stable isotopes analyzed from samples of skin biopsies reveal the trophic levels this species regularly consumes from. Followup analysis of the creature's dental anatomy suggests that this species is most likely an omnivore. 
  * Genetic samples highlight similarities between the loci of this individual and the loci of many other "twilight zone" species. That, as well as the large pair of eyes and the vibrant red and reddish-brown present on most of the young creature’s body, is rather indicative of a species dwelling in the mesopelagic. 



 

Bit by bit, hour by hour, the biologist works arduously to piece together a working picture of this novel species. Novikov sorts through all of these samples, filing away facts in his head and forming new questions from them as he goes along. As he does so, there’s one puzzling thing that remains at the forefront in his mind: that is, the creature’s supposed habitat. By all accounts, it doesn't make any sense; all current findings point to the possibility of this species originating from the mesopelagic, yet the scientist had only been shallowly trawling when he had captured the little merman—nowhere near at all where he should have been.

 

Just what had this little one been up to, wandering around alone in such shallow waters? How was he able to capture the creature, so far from its supposed natural habitat? 

  
_Most importantly, **wherein lies his greatest chance of coming across even more?**  _

  

Novikov goes on this way for quite some time, formulating questions upon questions, going down the list, and answering them with nary a break. By the time he had declared himself to be finished with the "basics", it was well past four o'clock in the morning. The young merman—clearly exhausted, in pain, and somewhat dehydrated from having been strapped down for the majority of the day—had finally succumbed to a fitful sleep right on top of the bench.

 

Pleased with his progress so far, the scientist finally gets up from the seat of his computer. He allows himself a good long stretch, yawning after a hard day's work, before casually approaching the bench in which the merman lay sleeping.

 

It was finally time to play.

 

"Shhh," Novikov whispered, rubbing small, playful circles on the smooth skin of its tail. "We are finally done with all of the bookkeeping, little one. Isn't that wonderful? Now we can finally move on to my favorite part of all of this," he says, grinning to himself.  

 

 _"Our_  favorite part, by the time I finish with you."

 

The scientist hadn't even done much of anything; all he had done so far was startle the creature awake with the touch of his fingertips. But the young merman, clearly traumatized by the prospect of any more procedures, had taken to thrashing about at the sight of him anyways—writhing and panting and flicking its massive tail all around in wide-eyed panic. Amidst its struggling, it had whimpered and cried out time and again with the most _beautiful_ sirenlike voice, as if desperately trying to call on any other living thing around with its alluring cry for help.

 

It was by far the loveliest sound he's ever heard.

 

Without warning, Novikov gripped the merman tightly around its neck. He held on tightly and squeezed, relishing the feeling of muscles uselessly spasming against the brute force of his fingers, until the scientist had nearly forced out every lungful of air from the animal. Somewhere in between the silent, choked-off screams and gurgles, the merman makes a wounded sound from deep within its chest—the last sound it was able to muster before eventually falling silent altogether.

 

The scientist finally releases his hands once the merman had fallen limp on the bench, mouth slightly agape and eyes rolled back into its head. He reaches for the loaded syringe to his right and carefully slides the needle into the side of its neck. He presses the plunger down—slowly, smoothly, until every single drop had been administered properly. As much as he could stand there for hours, watching the poor creature tire itself out so beautifully, he really does have more important matters to get to. More _interesting_ things to witness. Choking the creature like this ensured that the drug he administered would swiftly course through its body, as its poor heart would be forced to pump twice as hard to make up for the sudden lack of oxygen.

 

And, well, he would also be _lying_ if he didn't himself admit how much fun it was—feeling the creature struggle underneath his own bare hands, as opposed to merely watching it.

 

With every gulp of air it desperately swallowed down, every deafening beat of its chest, he could see the young merman start to give—succumbing to the power of the drug more and more, until even the slightest movement of its fingers was near impossible. Eventually, every inch of the creature's body lay slumped on the bench; head lolling to the side without so much as a twitch.

 

Subdued—pliant and effectively paralyzed from head to fin. But very, very much left awake.

 

Novikov wants it to be conscious for the next part, after all.

 

"Succinylcholine. Paralyzes the body by preventing skeletal muscle contraction," the older man stated matter-of-factly, before chuckling at himself. "Ah, that's right—that's only the case with _mammals_ , though. It's too bad I can't just ask you that to confirm, now can I?"

 

"Not that it matters _now_ , anyways," Novikov smirked, kneading the soft, sensitive mound of flesh on its groin. "Not when we've gotten so far, you and I."

 

The succinylcholine solution had been evenly distributed throughout the merman's body by now, thanks to a little help on his part. It had forced the thin, near-invisible flaps of muscle found there to relax, making it more visible to the scientist than it had been before. He traced along the line of these now lax muscles, delicately running his fingers up and down and drawing shaky gasps and moans from the young merman until the slit had finally parted—giving way to a slick, warm channel, where both a sheathed cock and a tight little cunt lay awaiting. 

 

The merman's hidden set of genitalia.

 

"Now, for the question we've all been waiting for." He licked his lips at the sight before him, eyes dark with a hunger he's never quite felt this intensely before. 

 

"How  _do_  you reproduce, little one?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/5/19: I edited most of this chapter because I am hard on my own writing and it was reading like garbage to me after a while. Changed the drug because IBMX is a smooth muscle relaxant, not a skeletal muscle relaxant unlike succinylcholine which is what I was going for (rookie mistake lol). More on this in the next chapter, which is coming SOON I promise.


	3. New Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please reread the second chapter if you haven’t already, as I’ve made post-publishing edits to it (5/5/19). As I’ve stated on there, I’ve changed the drug used because the previous one was inaccurate and I had only caught that mistake recently. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy.

While it had been a gamble at first, the choice to use the drug really had been a good one after all. Novikov is thankful he had decided to go ahead with it.

 

The depolarizing agent works by mimicking acetylcholine—a neurotransmitter important for skeletal muscle contraction in the body—and binding to its muscle receptors in its place, blocking the molecule from binding and thus effectively blocking the creature’s ability to move.

 

At the dose he administered, the succinylcholine had rendered the merman’s muscles so slack, the creature could no longer so much as even lift a finger. In this state, there was no way left for his little specimen to cause him any trouble now. Now, no matter how rough he gets, the merman’s body will always be forced to yield to him.

 

That wasn’t all the wonder drug had done for him, though. 

 

The succinylcholine had subdued his specimen, yes, but it had done so effectively while still leaving the creature wide awake and vulnerable to his administrations—an important _personal_ caveat that the other drugs in his arsenal did not offer. General anesthesia would have been too excessive, not to mention a bit of a bore. Local anesthesia would leave the creature awake, but completely numb to the touch. Paralytics that caused constitutive contraction would make penetration difficult. And working without any drugs altogether would just pose an unnecessary physical challenge for him. While his hope is to break the young merman enough to not need the use of drugs eventually, Novikov was positive that the succinylcholine was the perfect choice to go with for now.

 

Drugged, paralyzed, and rendered utterly helpless, the merman did not disappoint in the slightest.

  

Even merely rubbing against the flaps of its tail, Novikov could tell he was already getting to the little one. If it could writhe away from his touch it would, and the mix of fear, shame, and disgust etched in its eyes had told him just as much. Still, it did nothing to hide the fact that the young creature's body was practically dripping for him already, even despite not having touched the real thing. Clear, viscous slick, coming from the untouched sex organ beneath, has started to dribble out of the slit of the flaps and onto his fingers—as if its body was preparing for him, instinctively anticipating to be breached and mated. Novikov gathered the slick in between his digits and smeared a generous amount onto the thin, sensitive muscles, earning a choked moan from the merman. 

 

As he continued his relentless teasing, Novikov noted the morphological similarities between the creature’s tail and that of most other marine mammals. Scaleless, sleek, rubbery—and most likely lined with more nerve endings than that of human skin. If those similarities really ran true, then it would definitely explain the creature's heightened sensitivity to touch. He files that thought in the back of his mind, already planning future experiments to further test that claim.

 

If he could verify it, then perhaps he could use the fact to help train obedience into his specimen. Maybe _willingness_ , even, if this all works out. The thought notably excites him—admittedly more so than it had for any other organism he’d handled thus far.

 

At the moment, the young merman still did not fully comprehend the situation it was in. It could only whimper pitifully as it continued to struggle—and fail—to move. The more it failed, the more agitated and desperate the little one became, and the harder the creature doubled down in its efforts. Novikov himself was purposely holding back for this very reason, allowing the naïve creature to exhaust itself for him first before he proceeded. The succinylcholine solution was made to prevent even the slightest twitch of muscle, after all; no amount of effort would get around that. By the time the creature had inevitably  tired itself out, Novikov had his fingers gently pry open the thin muscle flaps of its tail, revealing the sensitive pair of sex organs hidden beneath.

 

"How _do_ you reproduce, little one?"

 

\- - -

 

It’s not as if the presence of both is anything novel. Hermaphroditism is anything but a rarity when it comes to marine animals, and Novikov knows this from his own experiences over the years. Still, with an entirely new species in his hands, just about every little discovery sends his pulse skipping a beat with the sheer excitement of it. The excitement of being the first to experiment on something novel, coupled with the excitement of getting to corrupt such an innocent young thing—it’s a mix so intoxicating to him it makes his head spin.

 

With that to spur him on, the scientist explores the discoveries he’s just made.

 

He decides to start with the merman’s phallus, noting everything he can of it in his perfunctory observations. The sex organ did not differ much in appearance to that of a human’s, though he noticed it was much smaller in size and girth comparatively. While it looked like one otherwise, to call it a cock was a bit much—really, it was a cocklet at best. A thin, somewhat elastic layer of epidermis covers the little organ from its base to the tip, draping over the head of the member much like in the way natural foreskin does. Finally, in the place of an external scrotum below its phallus is instead the creature’s vulva—smooth, hairless, and absolutely _smothered_ in its own thick fluids. 

 

From these observations, Novikov wondered whether the cocklet was in fact something more like a large hooded clitoris—and, by extension, whether the merman was even a merman at all. Everything that he had noted before—the flatness of its upper torso, to the short, hair-like tendrils that framed its boyish face—all had subconsciously implied to him that the creature he had caught was male. But even this, he realizes, was only an assumption he had jumped to with his own human biases. To really confirm anything, he would have to discern the functionality of this little organ himself.

 

Extracting sperm out of it would be _one_ start.

 

He closed his fingers firmly around the small cocklet as he starts stroking the merman off. Each tug of skin glided across its little shaft, providing a sort of natural lubrication for the friction as he goes. From the bewildered, humiliated expression on its face, Novikov had ventured to guess that nothing had ever touched the creature like this before. The little one looked as if it was lost—torn between being scared of what was happening to it and shocked that something like this could feel so _good_. He couldn’t help but be reminded of a young, blushing virgin.

 

Perhaps it _was_ actually virginal—who knows? Perhaps the creature had been unsuccessful at finding a mate all this time, or maybe even had been too young to mate with thus far. Regardless of the explanation, Novikov finds himself wishing that were true. If he  _was_  the creature’s first, then training and breaking the young thing would be  _much_ easier for him. Without prior experience, the specimen could eventually be molded as he sees fit, groomed and conditioned to accept all manners of things and be none the wiser.

 

Novikov continuously experiments with his pace—going slowly at first but adjusting his speed over time, basing himself on the creature’s responses. The succinylcholine helped immensely, as its sensitive flesh is made doubly so once the creature is without its ability to tense and protect itself. Once he feels the organ sufficiently lubricated, Novikov starts coupling the strokes with other touches: thumbing at its slit, teasing the crown, rolling the head between two of his fingers, all while he continues with the hot, heavy-handed strokes.

 

If his specimen was wet for him before, it was no less than gushing for him now. The scientist could almost feel how its empty little cunt _aches_ to be filled, fluttering as it continues to procure slick untouched. Its soft little cocklet also dribbles out in the same manner, leaking the same viscous fluid coating the entirety of its cunt with each mind-numbing touch to it. Even the tiny buds on its chest had become hard and pebbled on its own. 

 

Novikov absolutely loved the sight. The scientist always did have a particular soft spot for mammals in his line of work, but this was almost on another level entirely. He had always noted how sapient the organism was, but it was only now that he saw for himself how human the creature could really be—dropping all previous pretenses of shame and disgust only now, after getting just a small taste of what pleasure could feel like. 

 

Dishonest about what it truly wants, much like only a human ever would be.

 

Of course, he can never truly know what the animal is really begging for. But by the obscene way its mouth was constantly open on a moan, gasp, or incoherent plea, the way its pupils were blown wide with lust—it isn’t too difficult for Novikov to guess. 

  
“What a hungry little creature you are, little one. To be drooling so much here for me,” he murmured, smiling as he trailed a finger onto its slick-coated vulva. He started to massage the thick, swollen lips with his fingers, rubbing the fluids deep into the sensitive flesh. The young merman could only cry in gratitude at the touch. The scientist is sure that, if the creature could move, it would thrust its hips and shamelessly present itself to him by now.

 

He knew it won’t be long now, from the looks of things. The creature looked like it was ready to explode on him. Still, he knew there was no sense in rushing such a fun, delicate process like this. 

 

Novikov ultimately decides to help his little one along with some toys: vibrators, wands, and the like that he keeps to help with his usual reproductive experiments. He decides on a simple wand massager for now, turning it on to the lowest setting and lightly brushing the toy against the sensitive tissue around its groin. The merman yelped at the foreign sensation at first, but it wasn't long before it recovered, moaning deliriously at the pleasurable touch. He continued this teasing for quite some time—feather touches closer and closer, increasing the intensity of the toy each time as he does so, but purposefully skirting around its wet little cunt each time he got too close.  

 

By the time he had the toy on the second-to-highest setting, he had already reduced the creature to a sobbing mess—just a hair's breadth away from orgasm, but tortured and kept so carefully on the edge each time. His specimen knew by now that words were futile, but begged and pleaded for him all the same. 

 

The scientist chuckled. He eased the vibrator off of the creature, before turning it off and setting it aside altogether. Before the young creature could even panic at that, he lined his fingers at the entrance of its sopping wet cunt. 

 

“Are you hungry here, little one? Would you like me to stuff you full right here?”

 

As if it had understood him this time, the creature pleaded with him once more, moaning and whimpering for him  _oh-so-prettily_. Because it was severely limited in its movement, the little one seemed to try to make up for it with its voice, going above and beyond to seduce the human. Between that and the pitiful look it gave him through wide, teary eyes, the wrecked young merman before him looked nothing like the stubborn creature he had at the start. 

 

At this point, it was enough even for Novikov to decide a reward was in order.

 

Without any second to waste, the scientist slid his two fingers inside. It was as if he had slipped into a warm, wet vise, clamping down on his digits and greedily sucking him in. He had barely gotten past the second knuckle, curling them ever so slightly as he did, when he heard a strangled cry from the creature below.

  

Sure enough, the little merman was already coming on his fingers. _Hard_. After what was almost an hour of relentless teasing on his part, it's no surprise just how little it took to force the creature to finally come apart for him. The merman's soft, doe-brown eyes had rolled back into its head, which had lolled limply to the side on the bench. A quick check confirmed that the creature had indeed fallen unconscious mid-orgasm.

 

Novikov stoppered the creamy fluid that had dribbled out from its cocklet in a labeled vial for analysis. After he’s collected all his desired samples, the scientist made quick work of cleaning up before unceremoniously dumping his subject into its tank.

 

It was time to analyze what exactly he had in his hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the infrequent updates and replies. I think it is safe to say that it will always be hard for me to find the time to regularly update, even though I definitely want to. Still, I find writing fun, and despite everything I always strive to never abandon something I’ve started. 
> 
> Anyways, let me know in the comments whether you want the little one to be a merman or a mermaid upon further analysis.


	4. Crime and Punishment (pt. 1)

Time certainly flies when one is having fun.

 

Before the scientist knew it, morning had silently crept up on him, catching him unawares in the midst of research. The first hints of sun were now streaking through the thin slats of his blinds, highlighting the time on the clock from across the room.

 

_5:49 AM_

 

He sighs to himself. Though Novikov would love for nothing more than to work for a little longer, he admits he really does need rest if he is to accomplish what he needs to. If left unchecked, he might just forget to sleep again altogether—and needlessly set himself back a few more days for it. And with the pounding headache steadily growing on him, now might just be as good a time as any for the scientist to just call it a day, anyways.

 

Novikov reluctantly settles for a last, quick check before heading off. Nothing as in-depth as he would have preferred—just a simple check, to determine what he will have left to do for the morning after. He pipettes a small amount of the collected sample onto a dish before storing the rest inside the minus 80, then swivels himself over to his dissecting microscope to take a look at what he has.

 

Sperm. Live, motile  _spermatozoa_ —just as he predicted.

 

He can’t help but smile, a little giddy at the sight. Even with this one check, it relays to him quite a bit of pertinent information about his specimen. If nothing else, it verifies to him that the creature’s organ really does function as an actual penis, and not as some sort of odd pseudo-appendage commonly found in a few other species.

 

This means it not only possesses both male and female external genitalia, but also a functioning pair of testes.

 

This may not be enough to determine specifics just yet—like, for example, whether his specimen is the case of true hermaphroditism, male pseudo-hermaphroditism, or something else entirely. This may not even be enough to definitively conclude the creature’s biological sex yet, really. But this alone does rule out a few other possibilities: normal female phenotype, female pseudo-hermaphroditism—female anything, really. And that means he’s approaching a real answer he can use to further his research.

 

The scientist gets up from out of his chair and walks over to dim the lights, lost in thought all the while. Determining the type of specimen he has is critical for asking and testing the right questions from here on out. If he wants to determine between the two most likely possibilities, he figures the next thing he would have to do is to verify the additional presence of functional ovarian or ovotesticular tissue. Male pseudo-hermaphrodites are intersex individuals that have ambiguous external genitalia but possess only male chromosomes and reproductive organs; only true hermaphrodites would possess both. If it does indeed have one, then it confirms to him that the creature he has is a _true hermaphrodite_ —the most likely explanation being a possible result of 46,XX/46,XY chimerism. 

 

In theory, it's really that simple. However, the problem he runs into with this is the  _execution_. Testing for the presence of a functional ovary isn’t as easy a feat; it does not expel out sex cells or provide any other easily identifiable indicators unlike with the testes. Often, a partial or complete gonadectomy would be necessary to confirm it; and while that is most certainly doable and yields the clearest indicator, the risk such an invasive procedure comes with is too great for Novikov to consider it as a real option for him.

 

Unfortunately, if he cannot come up with any other way, he might just have to leave it aside for now and plan for something else tomorrow.

 

Novikov yawns as he takes off his coat and drapes it over his chair. For once, the exhaustion he feels in his bones is enough to trump the sheer excitement of scientific discovery thrumming in his veins. It hurts to even keep his eyes open for any longer at this point, and the pain only amplifies his headache the longer he stays awake with it.

 

He settles himself on his favorite corner, curling up on the cold tile floor, and sleeps.

 

\- - -

 

It’s not even a full four hours later, however, when he’s abruptly startled awake.

 

Novikov jolts upright upon hearing something clatter from the room across the hall—followed by a loud, wet  _THUD_ and a sharp cry of pain. His mind stalls a bit, taking a second to catch up to his surroundings before immediately flashing to the young merman and the tank he had left him in. Novikov swipes at his tired eyes and gets up, grabbing his lab coat from his chair as he swiftly makes his way to investigate the source.

 

Sure enough, what he saw from peering in through the window of the room was exactly what he had already anticipated.

 

The tank that held his specimen was now empty, with its lid knocked haphazardly on the floor. Right in between the two was the young merman—splayed out on its belly on the floor, wincing and gasping in pain most likely from the two-meter drop from the top of the tank to the ground. The creature would attempt to prop itself up on thin, shaky arms every now and then, only to collapse right back down onto the ground as weakened muscles inevitably gave out on holding itself upright for long.

 

Novikov calmly walks over to the room next door. In building his laboratory, he had been careful to always stock three emergency essentials in every single room: a first-aid kit, a fire hydrant, and a well-concealed weapon, all checked and tested for routinely. He is nothing but grateful for his brilliant foresight right at this moment—especially when most of his paralytic darts and syringes are currently locked in the same room as his escaped subject. The scientist procures one such weapon from its usual hiding place—a small, high quality stun gun from the second drawer of his third cabinet. Taking both the device and a pair of rubber gloves, he saunters back to the front of the door, weapon at the ready.

 

He’s thrilled, really. He’s admittedly never had to actually use one of his weapons like this before. Hell, the scientist has never had to resort to  _anything_  like this before. In all his years in research, none of the organisms he had ever worked with had done anything even remotely interesting on their own in captivity, let alone attempt something as bold as escaping from the tank, and quite possibly the facility itself. To have such an excuse to hear the exquisite creature scream from underneath him so soon again— _exhilarating doesn’t even begin to cover it._

 

Drunk on a heady mix of adrenaline and sadistic thrill, Novikov bursts into the room.

 

The merman nearly jumped upon hearing the door slam open. The shock must've gotten to the poor creature, because all it could do was tremble in place as it fearfully stared up at the scientist—a little fawn caught in the headlights. By the time it regained its senses enough to scramble away, the scientist was nearly an arm’s reach away from its tail. The creature did its absolute best to propel itself across the floor using only its arms and elbows, but they were inevitably no match for the human even if they weren’t only still recovering from the succinylcholine.

 

Novikov knew he had every advantage over the merman—and he was going to use every single one to put the animal in its place. He catches it by the end of its vibrant tail and drags the merman back with one swift motion of his arm, holding the animal down flush on the ground. With the other, he switches the safety off the device and presses the prongs against its hip, firing the gun and holding it there.

 

“Now, hold still,” he tuts, beaming as he watches the little one helplessly lock up and shriek from underneath him.

 

The small gun was one of the most powerful and effective in the market, capable of delivering a shocking 3 million volts and 4.5 milliamps at a time. The incredibly high voltage of the device—nearly _twentyfold_  that of a standard Taser—would effectively incapacitate just about anyone; literally scrambling the communication between brain and central nervous system. That, combined with the high amperage, also works to deplete nearly all the glycogen stores in the muscles, causing the victim to lose control of major muscle groups momentarily. Novikov holds the little gun in place for six seconds, double the time that he really needs to, and relishes every second that his specimen spends in agony, screaming and crying in that ever-so-beautiful voice.

 

He removes the gun after the six seconds and turns the creature’s head towards him with the sole of his shoe. There are visible tear tracks drying on its cheeks, and the life left in those doe-brown eyes had all but vanished at this point.

 

“I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson for this, little one,” he murmurs, hoisting the limp body over his shoulders. The merman makes a soft, barely audible whimper at that, but nothing more. “But we aren’t quite done yet, no.”

 

“You’ve been punished enough for attempting to escape, but what of your punishment for waking me just now?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your answers and your patience, as always. I had initially planned on writing the upcoming punishment as part of this chapter, but it became too lengthy to post as part of this one, so please look forward to the next one for that 👀 
> 
> Currently, I am going to be away from writing for quite a bit. I am in all actuality getting married really soon! That means lots of preparations to be made here, and no longer as much time spent thinking and writing on how to scientifically torture a little merman. I will try to update more regularly once everything is all set, though.
> 
> Until then! :)


	5. Crime and Punishment (pt. 2)

It wouldn’t be another two to three minutes until the animal regains muscle functionality.

 

Novikov is sure that nothing would come of it even if he didn't rush. Even a  _mongrel_ would know better than to do anything with the gun still in his hand. Still, an extra layer of insurance is never a bad thing to have, so the scientist makes quick work of the time the device buys him—swiftly hoisting the merman back onto the bench top and strapping it down tightly, long before the creature can start to move.

 

With the animal safely secured for now, he walks across the room to fetch the various things he needs.

 

The scientist had already decided that most of the day today would best be spent trying his luck out there—in the ocean, scouring for more of these elusive creatures. He could only progress so much with a sample size of n = 1; the longer he puts it off, the more he needlessly restricts himself and his research.

 

He wishes to see what he could try with what he has at his disposal. Mammals are by and large highly social creatures; they are capable of forming close relations with one another, and can be relied upon to respond favorably to the actions of their own species. With the various footage from the live surveillance cameras in the room, Novikov is sure he can put together a few audio clips from his time with his specimen—clips that may lure in the curious individual or two. He figures this approach will give him the best chance, as it would afford him a specificity that wouldn’t be had if he were to use something like food.

 

But—now that his own specimen was practically _begging_  for punishment—the scientist now had this to factor into his plans for the day as well.

 

Novikov grabs some spare rags, a pair of earbuds, a bottle of lubricant, and a handful of toys to bring back to the bench. Laying out the various things next to him, he takes the rags in hand first—tying one of the rags over the creature’s eyes and shoving the other forcefully inside its mouth. 

 

“Unfortunately, I will be too busy to remain with you today. If all goes well, I plan on having many more of your kind for us to  _play_ _with_ here, by tomorrow.”

 

Next come the earbuds: a pair of high-grade, noise cancelling devices he gently slips into each of the merman’s auditory canals.

 

“But fear not, little one—in the meantime, I’ll see to it that you still receive the punishment you so dearly wished for…” 

 

Already, he can start to see the effects of the deprivation on the poor creature. Without its other two senses, the little one couldn’t help but feel every touch that much more. It was if its skin was working doubly hard to compensate, relaying to the creature every bit of its surroundings in high definition where its eyes and ears no longer could. Within minutes, the creature was already trying to squirm away from the bench top surface, clearly uncomfortable with how intensely it now felt the cold and hard resin surface to be. Even the cool, dry air of the room was enough to send tiny shivers throughout the little one’s body.

 

Just like this, the merman was _perfect_ ; exactly how Novikov had wanted it for the next few hours of punishment. 

 

Before he gave it any more time to fret over this new loss, the scientist uncapped the bottle of lubricant and dribbled a small amount across the creature’s chest. The merman jumped at the sudden wet contact, but nothing quite compares to the creature’s reaction immediately after—when Novikov takes each nipple in between his fingers and rubs it onto them.

 

From there, Novikov was merciless _._  He massaged them, rolled them, fondled the wet, sensitive nubs slowly, sensually with the flat of his digits. He works the young merman up for quite some time, pinching and tugging at the stiff, lubricated flesh in between his fingers until the merman was panting, curling the tips of its fins and instinctively arching off the bench for more. The scientist knows from previous observations how sensitive the creature was naturally, and could only imagine how much more heightened its experience has become: deprived of both its sight and hearing, and having no other sensory cues to prepare the young animal for anything to come next. 

 

The creature was simply _exquisite_ like this—flushed and dripping from head to fin; clearly desperate after merely having its chest played with. Under the bright, fluorescent lights the merman almost looked as if it was sparkling: smooth, trembling flesh beautifully glistening in a fine layer of its own sweat and fluids. The crumpled ball of cloth in its mouth did very little in actually absorbing any saliva, and streams of drool ran down from the sides of its parted lips as a result. Even its genital slit was made ever-so-prominent by the creature’s thick, heady arousal, dribbling out from underneath the thin muscle flaps. 

 

After some time, Novikov removes his fingers from the creature’s chest. He grabs the next two items from the pile: a pair of love eggs, which he fastens atop each nipple. With a push of a button, he has the animal writhing instantly—jerking as if hit by a live wire.

 

The merman keens under the gag. It arches its body off the bench, bucking its chest erratically at the intense vibrations—torn between wanting to shake the devices off and wanting the human to press against them further. Not knowing which to even beg for, it begs regardless: pleading and whimpering pitifully, as if Novikov would be moved if only it cried for his mercy well enough.

 

He really could leave the little one like this, for the rest of the day. Trussed up, blind, and deaf like this, the poor thing wouldn’t even be able to tell he’s gone. Novikov could very well take off at this moment and have the creature continue to blindly cry out for him like so—needy and hypersensitive and oh-so-deliciously tortured, with no real way to pry the toys off or even relieve itself while he’s away. Begging for reprieve from the constant, unyielding stimulation for hours on end, without even grasping the futility of its efforts.

 

The scientist fully intends to do all this, of course, but not without some more  _additions_ to be made first. After all, Orel Pyotr Novikov is nothing if not meticulous in everything he does; it would just not do as punishment at all if it doesn't thoroughly shatter the creature by the end of it.

 

He pours a copious amount of lubricant over the merman’s crotch. By this point, the merman was hard—drooling slick all throughout its fully erect shaft, which protruded obscenely from within its genital slit. Its cunt was no different, either; the scientist could see clearly just how filthy and sloppy those red, swollen lips have become, even only peering from the small opening of the muscle flaps. Really, he figures the creature was more than ready for it, even without the help of any extra from the bottle. Still, this _is_ meant to be punishment: a little “overboard” will go a long way to drive the point home more effectively.

 

With his thumb and index finger, Novikov spreads the thin muscles wide, fully revealing the lewd sex organs lying underneath. He takes his other hand and strokes the merman off with it, deftly thumbing the head and mixing the lubricant and slick with each stroke. The little cocklet spasms beautifully in his grip, and it isn’t long before the young creature is whining, high and needy on the cusp of orgasm. 

 

"My. If I didn't know any better, I would say you're enjoying this punishment a little _too_ much now," he chuckles, adjusting his pace so that his strokes perfectly matched with the little thrusts of its hips.

 

“That’s alright. Enjoy it now while you can, little one, because I can assure that you won’t be doing so for much longer.”

 

He inserts two fingers inside the merman's tight, slick channel—pumping them nice and slow, contrasting the deliberate movement with hot, rapid strokes to the merman’s cock. He curls them as he does so, too: taking care to do so the same exact way that forced the creature's orgasm previously.

 

It's almost a little experiment, really. Driving such a young, innocent animal mad with lust; seeing just how much it can take from him before it inevitably cracks. Novikov is thrilled to see through this punishment and the data that may result from it. 

 

He removes his hands from the organism just before it could finish, and quickly replaces them with the remaining toys he had selected from earlier. In its cunt, he slides a thick, bulbous vibrator—for its cocklet, a mechanical sleeve. He turns both devices on and takes a step back to watch the merman scream, panting and gushing and absolutely _melting_ all over itself.

 

\- - - 

 

Finished with his little setup, Novikov heads towards the door to leave. He's cleaned up and packed for the day, and is only turning back one last time before he goes to make sure he has accounted for everything. Behind him, he can see the young creature beginning to twist and writhe desperately in its restraints—visibly distressed as the many devices force yet another orgasm to build, with absolutely no reprieve afforded in between. It will most certainly be a long time until he is to return, and the scientist is all too eager to come back to see what is left of the little merman by then. 

 

With a satisfied smile, he closes the door to the lovely sounds of its cries. 

 


End file.
